


schmoopy wincestiel ficlets

by kototyph



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Beaches, Crack, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, M/M, Mornings, Pie, Season/Series 08, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-09
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2017-12-07 19:49:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/752371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kototyph/pseuds/kototyph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What it says on the tin! \o/</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cranialabsconder](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=cranialabsconder), [Whit Merule (whit_merule)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whit_merule/gifts).



> Currently:
> 
> 1 - pie  
> 2 - beaches

[cranialabsconder](http://cranialabsconder.tumblr.com/): "Wincestiel - For all Dean's skill in the kitchen, he can't quite manage to make himself a decent pie; Sam and Cas take it upon themselves to cheer him up."

* * *

”Wait, I didn’t mean—” Castiel starts, holding out a hand as Dean yanks the pie tin away from him.

“It’s fine,” Dean snaps, striding across the room towards the garbage can. “It’s bad. You don’t have to say anything else.”

“Dean, come on,” Sam sighs, following him. “It wasn’t _bad_. It was… interesting.”

“Fuck off,” Dean says, viciously scraping the remaining gooey filling from the tin straight onto yesterday’s coffee grounds. “I don’t need your pity, sasquatch.”

“It’s not pity,” Sam protests, tone _fucking full of pity_ and Dean is ready to smash his face against the cabinets. Or, you know, collapse onto the kitchen floor and sob because it’s been _weeks_ since he’s pie and it had smelled so _good_ baking in their quaint little fifties stove—

“Shit, don’t cry,” Sam says desperately, and the jackass actually tries to hug him. Dean snarls and shoves him away, only the shove goes a little wrong and he somehow ends up with his head on Sam’s chest and Sam’s arms wrapped around him, his brother making low soothing noises into his hair, and what the hell is this, TLC?

“Dean, I will get you pie,” Castiel says, and when Dean turns his head the angel’s eyes are fierce and steely, like he expects to have to win this pie from the hoards of hell itself.

“I don’t want it anymore,” Dean says sulkily, even though that’s a base hateful lie and there’s nothing more he wants in the world. But he has his pride, damn it.

He just— he hasn’t really trusted store-bought pies since the Leviathan fiasco and say what you want about the Men of Letters, the old dead dudes have a fucking _nice_ kitchen, three ovens and an actual _pie safe_ , and he’d seen those bright red cherries at the farmer’s market and they’d looked so damn good and now they’re a sloppy sour mess dripping down the insides of his trash can—

Cas comes up behind him and Dean is suddenly the manly filling in a _gigantic wuss_ sandwich, and he immediately plants a hand against Sam’s shoulder and tries to push his way free.

“It’s okay, Dean,” Castiel says solemnly, snuggling in close with his mouth on the knob of Dean’s spine. “There will be other opportunities.”

“We’ll get more cherries tomorrow,” Sam promises, long arms reaching around to Cas and squashing them all in tighter. “Blueberries, rhubarb. Apples.”

“Not apples, they’re out of season,” Dean mutters into warm plaid flannel.

“Not in Fuji,” Castiel mumbles back.

* * *

[](http://cranialabsconder.tumblr.com/) **[cranialabsconder](http://cranialabsconder.tumblr.com/)** replied to your **[post](http://kototyph.tumblr.com/post/47334028698/wincestiel-for-all-deans-skill-in-the-kitchen-he)** : _**[Wincestiel - For all Dean's skill in the kitchen,...](http://kototyph.tumblr.com/post/47334028698/wincestiel-for-all-deans-skill-in-the-kitchen-he)**_

> *PTERODACTYL SCREECH* cas is going to fight legions of samurai for those fucking apples and sam is going to endure being hit on by hippie types at the farmer’s market I CAN SEE IT

THIS IS THE BEST MENTAL IMAGE

[](http://cranialabsconder.tumblr.com/)**[cranialabsconder](http://cranialabsconder.tumblr.com/)** replied to your **[post](http://kototyph.tumblr.com/post/47334741118/cranialabsconder-replied-to-your-post-wincestiel)** : _**[cranialabsconder replied to your post: Wincestiel...](http://kototyph.tumblr.com/post/47334741118/cranialabsconder-replied-to-your-post-wincestiel)**_

> CAS COMES BACK COVERED IN BLOOD AND SMILING BEATIFICALLY AND WHEN DEAN RIGHTEOUSLY LETS OUT A MANLY SHRIEK AT THE SIGHT HE JUST LOOKS CONFUSED AND HOLDS OUT THE BAG OF APPLES HE GOT

IT'S BEAUTIFUL

YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL


	2. beaches

[whitmerule](http://whitmerule.tumblr.com/) said:

> [...] Wincestiel - one of them wants to go to the beach and have beach walks! Do they go? Who complains? WHAT DO THEY EAT ON THEIR BEACH PICNIC.

It takes both of them to coax Castiel out of bed, and even then it's not coaxing as much as prodding and pushing and _dragging_ , his limp body finally thrown over Sam's shoulder like a sack of potatoes and hauled downstairs to the garage. They prop him up in the back seat and shove a half-liter thermos of coffee into his hands, and his eyes are just starting to open when they pull off the highway and start down the long series of switchbacks that lead past the steep hills to the cove.

"Shit, Cas, put your seatbelt back on," Dean says as Castiel suddenly slumps forward onto the front seat, forehead resting warm and solid against the back of his neck.

"'s _bright_ ," Castiel mutters, arms coming up to rest on Dean's shoulders, and Sam laughs and reaches over to ruffle his hair while Dean tries to shrug him off. The laugh earns Sam a narrow-eyed glare and another inarticulate grumble into the leather of the bucket seat.

It's still a little chilly when they park, blue twilight still ruling down at the base of the cliffs where the sun hasn't touched yet. Castiel sits in the open back door of the Impala and scowls blearily at the crying seagulls while Sam and Dean unload the trunk piece by piece; they have to make a couple trips each to get all the chairs, the coolers and the blanket down to a nice sandy spot near the water, picking their way carefully over loose rock and loamy soil, but the view is totally worth it.

"Cas," Sam calls back up the slope when they're ready, the eastern horizon one long stretch of soft gold, the ocean a glittering curtain silver curtain beneath it. "C'mon, breakfast!"

It takes a while, but eventually there's a very uncoordinated ex-angel making his way down the rocks, sleepy petulance in every shuffling step. "Careful," Sam says when he stumbles over some exposed roots about a third of the way down, and Castiel makes a rude gesture that has Sam looking back accusingly at Dean.

"Don't look at me," Dean says, building a neat cairn of charcoal briquettes in the bottom of the camp stove. "It was probably Kevin."

Sam rolls his eyes. "Sure, blame the teenager in the house."

"Kid's a menace," Dean agrees blithely, and the argument is interrupted by Castiel's abrupt arrival in a shower of gravel and dirt.

"Are you alright?" Sam starts, and Castiel growls something nasty-sounding and drops to his knees on the beach blanket. He crawls into the space between Sam's long legs and curls himself into a ball, eyes closed and his knees drawn up to his chest.

"Attaboy," Dean says. "We've got more coffee, do you—?" 

Castiel, eyes still closed, holds out both hands in mute appeal.

Dean snorts and grabs the other thermos, and rounds up cups for all of them. "Yeah, stupid question."

Sam, because he's even more of a boy scout than Dean ribs on him for, has a second blanket stashed in with the towels and swimming gear and tucks it around Castiel's shoulders, leaning against the embankment and pulling Castiel back with him. The two of them are looking pretty fucking cozy when Dean passes the coffee over, fat sausages and potatoes sizzling away on the stove behind him.

"Thanks for all your help, guys," he says dryly. "Really appreciate it."

"Don't mention it," Sam yawns. Castiel doesn't so much as twitch.

It's warmed up considerably by the time breakfast is ready, and Sam holds Castiel's plate so all he has to do is glower and eat.

"It's nine o'clock," Dean says, down to shirtsleeves and bare feet now that the temperature's rising. "There's tired and then there's just lazy, Cas."

Castiel swallows a mouthful of golden fried hashbrowns. "I refrain from mocking your many shortcomings, Dean Winchester, and I expect the same courtesy."

"A whole sentence!" Sam teases. "Compound words! You'll be up and surfing in no time."

Castiel looks doubtful at the prospect, still in his coat and wrapped in the blanket, and Dean's just about done sitting here with the shrinking violets while there's a whole unspoiled beach to explore. "Let me know when you ladies are ready for lunch," he says, rolling to his feet and stripping off his shirt. "I'll be in the water."

**Author's Note:**

> I need more fandom friends! Find me on [tumblr](http://kototyph.tumblr.com/) and [livejournal](http://kototyph.livejournal.com/).


End file.
